Santa didn’t come to my house for Christmas Eve. Oh no, something much better than that happened…A and I started a new Christmas Eve tradition: I got tied up and spanked! My old tradition was to go with the ex & the kids over to his parents’ house–visiting the ex-Dragon-in-Law is a joy I am glad to be rid of forever.
So I was in the bedroom, getting out the gifts that we still had to wrap, when A came in and said he was going to throw a wrench into my plans for the evening. I’m a chronic scheduler. It’s an incurable, deep-seated need to plan things. No really, it’s a sickness. So our evening was all planned out…drop kids at their Dad’s, go to the grocer for appetizer makings for the next day, get home, throw dinner in and wrap gifts til midnight, snuggle a bit, sleep. Apparently A had other plans.
“How’s that?” I asked.
“Well, Dad’s going over to so-and-so’s house,” he says. “That gives me about an hour to beat your ass while we wait for dinner to cook.”
I get all squishy when he starts sweet-talking me that way.
It didn’t start out great though.
I wanted…well, I wanted that fissure of excitement, that kind of knot I get in my belly when W moves towards me, when he gets that purposeful look in his face, when I know things are going through his mind…things about what he wants to do to me, how he is going to touch me, or tie me, or hurt me or use me or fuck me. It’s like a stillness just settles over me, over my mind, like I fall into this waiting place, a place where anxiety lives, but just under the surface, almost too deep to acknowledge. I feel like my breath can’t quite be caught, where my mind, just under the stillness, kind of skitters on the edge of “what if? what if?” But with Ad, it’s not like that. He’s not confident in himself enough yet to approach me in that way. But…he’s getting there. Just as massage therapy has been amazing for his self-esteem, for how he feels about himself, carries himself, holds himself, this does too. Having me respond to him, knowing how much I enjoy what he’s doing, knowing that he can do that to me, make me feel that way by doing that to me…it all adds up. I see the changes.
In any case, eventually he had me undressed–except for my socks. No really, look, he let me keep my socks onSnowflakes, socks and a red butt–and then wanted to take a picture of me in them, once I’d convinced him to take a picture. So he’s pretty cute, I mean even when he’s “beating me” he is cute–it’s hard to feel that gasp of shock or “oh no!”…but what I do feel is happiness and heat and wetness and joy that he is loving me this way, in a way that I love.
And he wasn’t all niceness. He got down to business with a leather flogger that he hadn’t used before and then with this sort of hard rubber bat and a little cane-like thing. But my favorite part was when I asked him to take a couple pictures, “please? For W…” So he helped me in something that I knew would please my D/s lover…THAT’s what poly is all about. “Gotta make your butt a nice red,” he said, and proceeded to whack me a lot more to get it just right. Then, best part of all, I asked him to take a picture of himself fucking me…a shot of his cock inside me…and he DID. Heck I don’t know if W will find that hot, but he always talks about seeing me get fucked, so…I thought I’d send him a picture. And A did, and I did! “You don’t have to ask me twice to get naked and fuck a sexy, naked girl tied over a couch,” he said. And then slapped my ass a few more times just for good measure.
Next year, I want bondage with the tinsely ribbon.
